The Awakening : Book 02, Chapter 10

1899

People

(1828 - 1910) ~ Father of Christian Anarchism : In 1861, during the second of his European tours, Tolstoy met with Proudhon, with whom he exchanged ideas. Inspired by the encounter, Tolstoy returned to Yasnaya Polyana to found thirteen schools that were the first attempt to implement a practical model of libertarian education. (From : Anarchy Archives.) • "People who take part in Government, or work under its direction, may deceive themselves or their sympathizers by making a show of struggling; but those against whom they struggle (the Government) know quite well, by the strength of the resistance experienced, that these people are not really pulling, but are only pretending to." (From : "A Letter to Russian Liberals," by Leo Tolstoy, Au....) • "Only by recognizing the land as just such an article of common possession as the sun and air will you be able, without bias and justly, to establish the ownership of land among all men, according to any of the existing projects or according to some new project composed or chosen by you in common." (From : "To the Working People," by Leo Tolstoy, Yasnaya P....) • "...the dissemination of the truth in a society based on coercion was always hindered in one and the same manner, namely, those in power, feeling that the recognition of this truth would undermine their position, consciously or sometimes unconsciously perverted it by explanations and additions quite foreign to it, and also opposed it by open violence." (From : "A Letter to a Hindu: The Subjection of India- Its....)

CHAPTER X.

The man in whose power it was to lighten the condition
of the prisoners in St. Petersburg had earned a great
number of medals, which, except for a white cross in his
button-hole, he did not wear, however. The old general
was of the German barons, and, as it was said of him,
had become childish. He had served in the Caucasus,
where he had received this cross; then in Poland and in
some other place, and now he held the office which gave
him good quarters, maintenance and honor. He always
strictly carried out the orders of his superiors, and considered
their execution of great importance and significance,
so much so that while everything in the world could
be changed, these orders, according to him, were above
the possibility of any alteration.

As Nekhludoff was approaching the old general's
house the tower clock struck two. The general was at
the time sitting with a young artist in the darkened reception-room,
at a table, the top of which was of inlaid
work, both of them turning a saucer on a sheet of paper.
Holding each others fingers over the saucer, placed face
downward, they pulled in different directions over the
paper on which were printed all the letters of the alphabet.
The saucer was answering the general's question.
How would souls recognize each other after death?

At the moment one of the servants entered with Nekhludoff's
card, the soul of Jeanne D'Arc was speaking
through the saucer. The soul had already said, "They
will recognize each other," which was duly entered on a
sheet of paper. When the servant entered, the saucer,
stopping first on the letter p, then on the letter o, reached
the letter s and began to jerk one way and another. That
was because, as the general thought, the next letter was
to be l, that is to say, Jeanne D'Arc, according to his idea,
intended to say that souls would recognize each other
only after they had been purged of everything mundane,
or something to that effect, and that therefore the next letter
ought to be l (posl, i. e., after); the artist, on the
[Pg 232]other hand, thought that the next letter would be v; that
the soul intended to say that souls would recognize each
other by the light—posv (ietu) that would issue from the
ethereal body of the souls. The general, gloomily knitting
his brow, gazed fixedly on the hands, and imagining that
the saucer moved itself, pulled it toward the letter l. The
young, anemic artist, with his oily hair brushed behind
his ears, looked into the dark corner of the room, with his
blue, dull eyes, and nervously twitching his lips, pulled
toward the letter v. The general frowned at the interruption,
and, after a moment's silence, took the card, put
on his pince-nez and, groaning from pain in his loins,
rose to his full height, rubbing his benumbed fingers.

"Show him into the cabinet."

"Permit me, Your Excellency, to finish it myself," said
the artist, rising. "I feel a presence."

"Very well; finish it," said the general with austerity,
and went, with firm, long strides, into the cabinet.

"Glad to see you," said the general in a rough voice
to Nekhludoff, pointing to an arm-chair near the desk.
"How long have you been in St. Petersburg?"

Nekhludoff said that he had but lately arrived.

"Is your mother, the Princess, well?"

"My mother is dead."

"Beg pardon; I was very sorry. My son told me that
he had met you."

The general's son was making the same career as his
father, and was very proud of the business with which
he was entrusted.

"Why, I served with your father. We were friends,
comrades. Are you in service?"

"No, I am not."

The general disapprovingly shook his head.

"I have a request to make of you, general," said Nekhludoff.

"Very glad. What can I do for you?"

"If my request be out of season, please forgive me.
But I must state it."

"What is it?"

"There is a man, Gurkevitch, kept in prison under your
jurisdiction. His mother asks to be permitted to visit
him, or, at least to send him books."

[Pg 233]The general expressed neither satisfaction nor dissatisfaction
at Nekhludoff's request, but, inclining his head
to one side, seemed to reflect. As a matter of fact he was
not reflecting; Nekhludoff's question did not even interest
him, knowing very well that his answer would be
as the law requires. He was simply resting mentally
without thinking of anything.

"That is not in my discretion, you know," he said, having
rested awhile. "There is a law relating to visits, and
whatever that law permits, that is permitted. And as to
books, there is a library, and they are given such books
as are allowed."

"Yes, but he wants scientific books; he wishes to
study."

"Don't believe that." The general paused. "It is not
for study that they want them, but so, it is simply unrest."

"But their time must be occupied somehow?"

"They are always complaining," retorted the general.
"We know them."

He spoke of them in general as of some peculiar race
of people.

"They have such conveniences here as is seldom seen
in a prison," he continued.

And as though justifying himself, he began to recount
all the conveniences enjoyed by the prisoners in a manner
to make one believe that the chief aim of the institution
consisted in making it a pleasant place of abode.

"Formerly, it is true, the regulations were very harsh,
but now their condition is excellent. They get three
dishes, one of which is always of meat—chopped meat or
cutlet. Sundays they get a fourth dish—dessert. May
God grant that every Russian could feed so well."

The general, like all old men, evidently having committed
to memory the oft-repeated words, proceeded to
prove how exacting and ungrateful the prisoners were
by repeating what he had told many times before.

"They are furnished books on spiritual topics, also old
journals. We have a library of suitable books, but they
seldom read them. At first they appear to be interested,
and then it is found that the pages of all the new books
are barely half cut, and of the old ones there is no evidence
of any thumb-marks at all. We even tried," with a [Pg 234]remote
semblance of a smile the general continued, "to put
a piece of paper between the pages, and it remained untouched.
Writing, too, is allowed. A slate is given
them, also a slate-pencil, so that they may write for diversion.
They can wipe it out and write again. And yet
they don't write. No, they become quiet very soon. At
first they are uneasy, but afterwards they even grow stout
and become very quiet."

Nekhludoff listened to the hoarse, feeble voice; looked
on that fleshless body, those faded eyes under the gray
eyebrows, those sunken, shaved cheeks, supported by a
military collar, that white cross, and understood that to
argue and explain to him the meaning of those words
were futile. But, making another effort, he asked him
about the prisoner, Shustova, whose release, he had received
information, had been ordered, through the efforts
of Mariette.

"Shustova? Shustova—I don't remember them all by
name. There are so many of them," he said, evidently
reproving them for being so numerous. He rang the
bell and called for the secretary.

While a servant was going after the secretary he admonished
Nekhludoff to go into service, saying that the
country was in need of honest, noble men.

"I am old, and yet I am serving to the extent of my
ability."

The secretary came and reported that there were no
papers received relating to Shustova, who was still in
prison.

"As soon as we receive an order we release them the
very same day. We do not keep them; we do not particularly
value their presence," said the general, again
with a waggish smile, which had the effect only of making
his face wry.

"Good-by, my dear," he continued. "Don't be offended
for advising you, for I do so only because I love you.
Have nothing to do with the prisoners. You will never
find innocent people among them. They are the most immoral
set. We know them," he said, in a tone of voice
which did not permit the possibility of doubt. "You had
better take an office. The Emperor and the country need
honest people. What if I and such as you refused to
[Pg 235]serve? Who would be left? We are complaining of conditions,
but refuse to aid the government."

The general disapprovingly shook his head, and, rubbing
his loins, went to the reception-room, where the
artist awaited him with the answer of Jeanne D'Arc. The
general put on his pince-nez and read: "They will recognize
each other by the light issuing from the ethereal
bodies."

"Ah!" said the general, approvingly, closing his eyes.
"But how will one recognize another when all have the
same light?" he asked, and again crossing his fingers with
those of the artist, seated himself at the table.

Nekhludoff's driver drove up to the gate.

"It is very dull here, sir," he said, turning to Nekhludoff.
"It was very tiresome, and I was about to drive
away."

"Yes, tiresome," assented Nekhludoff with a deep sigh,
resting his eyes on the clouds and the Neva, dotted with
variegated boats and steamers.